


A View Of Heaven

by Redder_than_blood



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Beque doesn't die because she's awesome, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redder_than_blood/pseuds/Redder_than_blood
Summary: First Captain Julius Kaesoron has lifetimes of experience with war, but none with love. He finds himself in over his head as he tries desperately to balance the weight of his new-found feelings and a rapidly changing Emperium. (Takes place shortly after the Istvaan III campaign)
Relationships: Fulgrim/Julius Kaesoron, Solomon Demeter/Marius Vairosean
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> "A view of heaven from a seat in hell." - Steve Callahan
> 
> This is my first venture into writing on A03, so please, please be gentle. No critiques at this time only love! (and fact checks!)

The lights were dim when Captain Kaesoron entered the Primarch of The Emperor’s Children’s luxurious chambers. The Primarch had asked him to rouse him well before the meeting of their warrior lodge’s inner circle. Kaesoron figured a few hours would leave The Primarch plenty of time to ready himself after their planning session finished.  
He fondly remembered Lord Fulgrim’s last ensemble: flowing red silks that laid a good portion of his pale chest bare in an elegant v, cheekbones highlighted in gold, his fox-like eyes darkly lined. He had been stunning, Kaesoron mused, allowing himself a smile that was broader than he had intended.

He realized then that something was amiss. The air was thick with rich spices and alien perfumes, music spilling from every corner of the large sitting room. But where was his Primarch?

He shook off his discomfort and marched past sweeping crimson drapes and paintings of gorgeous nude warriors and civilians engaging in passionate acts. He sighed wistfully, pausing. If only he had the luxury and time to admire such works of art as his gene-father did. But Astartes were assiduous fighters by profession, and he was no exception. 

Without thinking he turned and strode into the Primarch’s open bedroom doors- and froze in horror. 

At the center of a bed of fine wine-dark fabrics and elaborately embroidered cushions was his Lord Fulgrim, moaning in pleasure, his naked body shining with fragrant oils. 

Kaesoron’s eyes widened. He stumbled back, a new experience for the nimble Astartes.  
Fulgrim turned his piercing violet tinted gaze on him.

“My Lord-” Kaesoron rushed to explain, heat rising to the surface of his olive skin as his cheeks positively burned. 

“Your-Your guard, they gave no indication”-

“Julius,” Fulgrim whispered hoarsely, cutting the Captain off.

Kaesoron watched as the Primarch reached out a perfect porcelain hand, beckoning him forward. 

The music seemed louder in Julius’s ears, pulsing with a deafening and heady rhythm, drowning out all but his twin heartbeats. The distance closed as he found himself moving to Fulgrim’s side. 

Julius couldn’t help but notice how precious beads of sweat had collected on his Lord’s shoulders and the rippling muscles of his chest, or how his neatly plaited silver hair had come unraveled, fluffed at the ordinarily crisp edges, strands ghosting at his dewy brow.

But it was his shining eyes that drew Julius in and utterly trapped him.  
His stomach dropped.

“Please,” Fulgrim asked softly, his voice high and needy. 

Captain Kaesoron was overwhelmed. He couldn’t bear to see his Primarch so exposed and unguarded. More than that, he couldn’t force himself to turn on his heels and leave his lord like this, despite what it would mean for him if he stayed.

Julius’s resistance broke with a sigh that rippled through his chest.

The Captain leaned down and softly kissed Fulgrim, feeling small next to the towering form of the Primarch who easily dwarfed him.  
Kaesoron jumped, caught off guard when Fulgrim melted into him and sat up, deepening the kiss and grazing the Captain’s tongue with his own. Pulling Kaesoron into his warm, muscular chest, the Primarch easily lifted him off the ground, purple ceramite armor clicking faintly against the marble floor as he searched for and lost any semblance of purchase, kicking his dangling feet before being gently deposited among the soft blankets. 

Julius opened his brown eyes wide to find his Lord Fulgrim staring at him intently, trapping him in his gaze like a tiny planet caught in the orbit of a burning sun.  
Or a black hole that might thoughtlessly pull him apart.

His whole body warmed to be the sole attention of such a fierce, perfect being.  
Tentatively, he reached a hand out to touch the Primarch’s ivory chest, savoring the feeling of rippling muscles under his fingertips.  
Fulgrim’s eyes followed his hand hungrily as it grazed his hips, drifting down to wrap firmly around the Primarch’s lengthy member.

Fulgrim moaned softly, resting a tattooed hand adorned with sparkling rings on Julius that nearly covered his entire chest. His face burned as he tenderly stroked Fulgrim, feeling him grow harder at his gentle touch. 

Fulgrim stared at him with intense emotion, what Julius hoped was adoration.  
He lifted a gleaming bejeweled hand, running it through the Captain’s short chocolate hair.

Julius sped up, firmly moving his hand back and forth as The Primarch moaned and twisted, gripping him so hard by the hair that a tear rolled down Julius’s cheek.

Then he reached down to grip the edge of the Astartes’ purple ceramite breastplate with both hands and pulled firmly at the point where it sealed. With a screeching POCK, the bolts gave. Methodically, Fulgrim removed each piece of Julius’s armor in the same manner, the armor screaming in protest as it came apart. When he had finished there was nothing left but Julius’s black body glove and exposed ports scattered across his body like gaping man-made keyholes into his flesh. 

Julius was trembling in tense anticipation, for once not thinking of the hellish repairs the servitors would have to make after the Primarch’s unorthodox removal of his light armor.  
Fulgrim paused, stroking his cheek gingerly, staring into his eyes with so much heat and desire it took everything Julius had to hold his beloved Primarch’s gaze.

In the next moment, Fulgrim was peeling off his body glove, careful of his aching ports. Julius trembled, shifting to assist his Primarch. He’d never dreamt that Fulgrim would touch him like this, never dared to allow himself to entertain such thoughts. Not even for a single precious moment. And now he was in Fulgrim’s arms, his hands stroking The Primarch’s warm chest.

Without warning, Fulgrim leaned down and took all of him in his mouth, keening as he ran his hot tongue over his cock.  
Julius gasped, exquisite waves of pleasure rolling over his body. The captain had never felt anything so intense save the joyous frenzy of battle. He had never engaged in an act such as this before, as he had no desire to before this moment. But now all he could feel was desire.

He moaned as Fulgrim sucked hard, swirling his hot, serpentine tongue around his member.  
Julius’s fingers tingled and his cock throbbed pleasantly as he tried not to thrash.  
He failed when the Primarch nonchalantly reached up and took hold of one pink nipple, twisting it hard into a bright cherry red. Another wave of exhilaration swept through him and he moaned aloud, writhing as it swelled in his groin. 

Fulgrim barely noticed the captain’s inadvertent resistance. Instead, he casually slid his other hand across Julius’s chest and pressed down effortlessly, instantly exerting a near crushing amount of force to hold him still. Julius sucked in another ragged breath as he twisted even harder, all while Fulgrim bobbed his unblemished head up and down in between his legs.

Julius began to breathe hard, throwing his head back against the ornate silk pillows.  
Fulgrim groaned, high and soft, stroking himself now with one sparkling hand.  
Many of his splendid rings had slipped off and laid glittering among the delicate blankets.

Julius keened, twitching with all-consuming pleasure that seemed to swallow every inch of his body greedily. He dug his fingers into Fulgrim’s soft silver hair, pulling roughly at the roots where his plaits were bound. The Primarch whined, looking up at the Captain with violet eyes full of need and want. So Julius pulled harder.  
Fulgrim moaned emphatically around his cock, slurping faintly as he sucked even harder.  
Julius yelled, jerking as he came thickly, ecstasy clawing through him like a savage predator.

Fulgrim moaned softly, swallowing and unclamping his jaw patiently. A moment later he cried out, cum streaming in two spurts across Julius’s sweat-coated abs and chest.

A few minutes later, Fulgrim carried a very sleepy Astartes into his bath, a large marble pool filled with steaming water and soapy bubbles. As Julius began to wake up more, Fulgrim cradled him to his chest, gently washing him clean and wiping his own face clean of the cum that had run down his chin and the corners of his red mouth like rich cream. 

As Julius became more alert, his mind began to spin. A haze of confusion settled over him. Logically, he remembered what had happened between himself and The Primarch, but he was struggling to bridge the gap in his mind, his bare arms wrapped around Fulgrim’s neck as damp fingers stroked Julius’s scalp. Now and then The Primarch would hum in a soothing tone, rocking the Astartes he held in his arms like a child instead of the immense warrior that he was.

Julius sank down to his chin awkwardly in the bubbly water when two mortal servants peeked into the chamber. Fulgrim turned to look over his shoulder and casually addressed them as if they were expected.

“Bring me my robes and a set for Captain Kaesoron. Also, a team of servitors. They have some repairs to do,” He ordered nonchalantly.

The servants scurried off without another word from The Primarch.

Fulgrim turned back to Julius and smiled at him, his eyes full of silent humor at his obvious embarrassment. He couldn’t help but smile back, filled with no small amount of joy at the sight of Fulgrim in such a light-hearted mood. Julius made a mental note to improve his attempts at subtlety. 

Fulgrim gracefully stepped over the high marble wall and emerged from the steaming bath, hot water and fragrant lavender foam dripping from his body and the ends of his silver-white hair.

Had the bath been designed for simple mortal or Astartes use, getting out wouldn’t have been an obstacle, but it had been designed specially for The Primarch. Julius would have hated to scrabble out gracelessly like an animal in the presence of Fulgrim.  
Reaching down he offered a hand to Julius, who accepted it with grateful relief. 

While they stood on furs drying themselves off, the servants returned. Julius was surprised at the speed of their return, but he supposed that if The Primarch gave him an order, he himself would move with equal haste, if not the fear rolling off of the mortals. 

While the servants dressed them, Fulgrim was markedly silent, glancing at Julius now and then with what seemed to be apprehension, his blond brows furrowed. But before he knew it, The Primarch was back to chatting about the upcoming meeting with the confident ease that Julius had come to expect of him. Julius could almost convince himself that he had imagined the momentary lapse in Fulgrim’s bright mood. 

Waiting while The Primarch had makeup creams applied and his damp hair straightened and woven back into intricate plaits, Julius spotted something covered in a sheet at the edge of Fulgrim’s grand sitting room. Lifting the edge slightly he could see that it was the beginnings of a statue chiseled into a gorgeous block of marble.  
It was only crude shaping of the stone, but he could make out broad shoulders and the barest outline of terminator armor. He wondered how Fulgrim would finish it off, with all of the exquisite detail he was certain was to come.

A voice spoke from behind him.

“Come along,” Fulgrim gestured to the chamber doors, stepping forward briskly to pull the sheet back down over the unfinished statue.

He turned away sharply and stepped into the grand baroque hallway.

Julius jogged to keep up with his pace, confounded and wondering what had ruffled The Phoenician’s feathers so to speak.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A semi-awkward meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All the love in the world is useless when there is a total lack of understanding." - Kafka  
> Another chapter! I'll try to update regularly as I write, hopefully every few weeks!

They arrived at the meeting early, yet eyes were still drawn to the pair arriving in tandem.   
It wasn’t an uncommon sight as Lord Fulgrim had often held planning sessions with Captain Kaesoron in recent months, though it seemed more planning sessions had been necessary to The Primarch in the past few weeks. Despite this heat rose in Kaesoron’s face. None of the officers or Lord Commanders seemed to take any notice, but that didn’t bring him any sense of relief. 

Kaesoron almost forgot himself, belatedly joining the rest of the small group in a kneel at the Primarch’s feet. Fulgrim scanned the room, looking upon every warrior with grace and his own uniquely crooked smile before settling on Captain Kaesoron. The corner of his painted mouth twitched slightly and his beautifully vulpine smile seemed to shift imperceptibly to everyone but the Astartes kneeling before him.

The moment passed and Fulgrim looked up and smiled sweetly, waving his sons to their feet.

A firm hand clapped Kaesoron on the shoulder and he turned to see his dear friend Captain   
Vairosean standing behind him smiling broadly. 

“Marius!” He cried with glee, embracing him in a warm hug.

Vairosean threw up his arms in surprise and groaned before returning the embrace with a diffident huff, rolling his dark eyes.

Since the campaign on Istvaan III months before, Marius had lost his cheerful demeanor.   
He had been close with their former comrade Solomon Demeter, one of the warriors who had foolishly resisted their turn against the Emperor of Mankind. Though he hadn’t been savvy enough to detect the turning tide of the legion, Julius had remembered him as a good man. It was a shame that he had to be removed in such a horrific way. He wouldn’t have wished such a death on any but the most grisly Xenos filth the galaxy had to offer.

Despite his cynical moods, Julius still loved his friend. With everyone lost, it was important for him to hold his faithful friends a little closer this time.

Pulling back, the two Astartes made their way towards a lengthy purple agate assembly table. 

“So how did the planning session go?” Marius asked.

Instantly Julius choked up as he searched frantically for an answer to his friend’s innocent question.

It had gone splendid, by sexual standards. Planning? Not so much. 

There was a strong urge tugging at him to tell his closest friend everything, to spill his sopping guts. But the time and place were all wrong. If they were overheard (and they would be with Astartes’ honed sense of hearing), it would be all anyone could talk about. He didn’t fancy being discussed as The Primarch’s latest toy. He swallowed his words.

Marius frowned and looked like he was about to say something when the chatter in the room began to die down, signaling the start of the meeting. As the room fell silent he gave Julius a sharp look but said nothing.

At the head of the table was Fulgrim, his long hair trailing onto the table’s shimmering surface. Beside him stood Lord Commander Eidolon in shining mauve armor.

He cleared his throat and spoke.  
“By the order of Lord Fulgrim, all Astartes of The Lords of Profligacy will undergo enhancement procedures.”   
He waved to Apothecary Fabius, who stood at nearly the opposite end of the stone table. 

He stood alone, looking slightly disheveled. The long strands of his white hair puffed with static and looked as if they hadn’t been combed through for days. Though the room wasn’t at all crowded, Julius saw that the other Astartes stood apart from him. I wouldn’t want to stand too close either, he thought.

Apothecary Fabius perked up, the unsettling smile that stretched across his face making Julius shiver.

“Thank you Lord Commander Eidolon. These procedures aim to bring our legion closer to perfection by incorporating lairon genes into the gene-seed. We have seen fantastic successes in several Captains and even Lord Commander Eidolon himself,” He explained cheerfully, as if he were giving them a choice. 

Marius’s eyes had bled and ached terribly for weeks after his procedure if Julius remembered correctly. Hadn’t they all endured enough pain being made?   
But that wasn’t really up to him, he supposed.

Apothecary Fabius prattled on, explaining his grisly progress in a carefree manner as if he was discussing some enjoyable hobby with an acquaintance. His descriptions were clearly making some of the officers sick. All but the Primarch looked uncomfortable. Fulgrim listened raptly, occasionally stopping Apothecary Fabius for a well-worded question. When he finally concluded his presentation the room let out a communal sigh of relief. Even Lord Commander Eidolon looked nauseated. 

“Thank you for that fascinating explanation, Apothecary Fabius,” Fulgrim said graciously.

“And now for our upcoming campaign,” he added, “Captain Kaesoron, If you would?”  
Fulgrim locked eyes with Julius and motioned to him. Looking peeved, he repeated the motion.

Julius realized with a start that Fulgrim wasn’t just calling on him to speak, he was waving him over to his side. Without turning to see the confused look on Marius’s face he began to wade through the gathered officers, making his way towards the towering Primarch.   
When he finally got to Fulgrim, he was smiling radiantly. Despite his shock, the hint of a smile tried to work its way onto his face. He managed to fight it off. 

Kaesoron cleared his throat and spoke.  
“Thank you, my Lord.” He glanced around, feeling the weight of all eyes on him. It was exhilarating.

Captain Kaesoron didn’t notice Lord Commander Eidolon’s expression from where he stood on the other side of the Primarch. His dark look of hatred clashed with the bright rash of colors that decorated his jarring mark four armor. 

“Our next campaign will center on the defense of this system. The loyalists are coming to us, like lambs to the slaughter.” This drew dark smiles from around the table. Kaesoron knew well that many were awaiting the coming bloodshed, himself included.  
“The center of our defenses will be on Istvaan V, per the orders of the Warmaster. We are tasked with ground fortifications and preparations for the coming battle.”

At this there were groans of dissatisfaction, even several shouted complaints despite the presence of their Primarch. This outraged Captain Kaesoron. He couldn’t allow such a disrespect.

“Brothers!” he bellowed, his eyes burning violet. 

The room was hushed. He was practically fuming, about to say more when he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. Fulgrim looked down at him, speaking softly.

“That’s alright, Captain Kaesoron.” He shifted to look at the gathered Astartes, his tone saccharine. 

“I know my sons would never dishonor me, now would they?”   
Fulgrim’s eyes glittered dangerously, his voice dripping with honey and venom. The grip on Captain Kaesoron’s shoulder tightened nearly to the point of pain. 

Julius bit his bottom lip, tasting coppery sweet blood. The room was silent, soaked in shame.  
He stared up at the crystal chandelier suspended from the high ceiling, holding his breath.

Finally, The Primarch seemed to realize he was causing the Captain pain. Fulgrim released him with a start, the incensed look in his eyes dying at once like a doused flame. 

“Please, continue,” Fulgrim said, a hint of remorse in his tone that only Julius seemed to catch. 

“Of course,” Julius breathed. “Brothers,” he addressed the solemn warriors, “This is an opportunity for our Legion to prove ourselves on the brink of a new age. The fortifications are dirty work, but the glory of the coming battle will be ours. None would dare dispute it.”

Julius couldn’t help but look to his Primarch, who simply nodded his approval.

The mood of the gathered Astartes began to lift, if only slightly. Quiet chatter picked up again and Marius groaned as he spotted Lucious trying to show off his Xenos sword from the war on Murder.


End file.
